They met up with each other in Nagasaki about two weeks after they had parted ways for good. Fuu couldn't particularly say she was surprised when she ran into them in the street during the late afternoon of her first day in the city, and she sort of doubted the other two were either, though Jin's brow furrowed and Mugen swore for a good ten minutes, not even really pausing when it came time to order dinner. The waiter had been scandalized, and though Fuu was somewhat embarrassed on Mugen's behalf for ordering three fucking rice balls with a side of that wasabi shit, and hurry it up, bitch, the feeling was pure reflex, and so was the apology.
Mugen scowled through his rice balls and muttered about them following him, but that was the end of it. Jin sipped his tea and Fuu briefly considered saying how nice it was to see them again, but that was nothing but a reflex, too. She hadn't honestly thought their separation had been anything close to permanent, and after only a fortnight of being apart it felt like they never had walked down different paths. After all, they were all still dirty, tired, hungry (though not so much after dinner, even if Fuu could have stood for another platter), and poor, so it wasn't as if anything had changed.
It was without further comment that they traveled together to the cheapest inn after putting their dinner's tab on some drunk guy who hadn't known when to stop hitting on her, though Fuu knew that if asked Mugen would have said it was where he would have headed with or without them, and Jin wouldn't have said anything at all. When Fuu woke up the next morning, both of them were still there. And the morning after that. And the morning after that, though not the fourth morning, if only because they had spent the entire night running from the police who had mistaken Jin for a notorious serial killer and slept through the next day in some abandoned stables until the heat died down.
Nothing had changed from before. Mugen was still rude and crude and wasted most of his money on women, Jin was still quiet and stoic and wore glasses that didn't have any prescription in them for reasons he wouldn't explain, and both of them were still callous jerks who ate her dango when she wasn't looking and them refused to be remotely sorry about it. Nothing had changed from before. Except this time they had no final destination, no end of their journey in sight. And Fuu had no promise to hold them to.
Somehow, that didn't matter at all. After all, neither of them had been much for keeping promises to begin with.
